


Nude

by PeachieFics



Category: Kpop - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Love Stories, Mentions of Sex, Model Park Jimin (BTS), Romance, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, artist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachieFics/pseuds/PeachieFics
Summary: When nudity is the norm, what would it take for Jimin to feel flustered? Her.
Relationships: Park Jimin (BTS)/Reader, park jimin | original character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Nude

The screeching of an alarm did nothing more than irritate Jimin. With eyes tightly shut and a heavy sigh, he slammed his hand on the bedside table, somehow managing to silence his phone. Releasing himself from the grip of grogginess, he dragged himself out of bed and over to his closet.

“Not like it matters,” he mumbled to himself, haphazardly sifting through his clothes before selecting a pair of light-wash skinny jeans and a white button-up shirt. His ears perked up at the sound of his roommate’s door opening, with the rest of him following suit as he threw his clothes on the bed and bolted for the bathroom. He slid past the younger male and grabbed the door handle, much to the boy’s dismay. “You snooze, you lose, Kid.”

With a click of his teeth, the boy whined, “C’mon, Jimin. I gotta take a piss!”

“And I got morning wood to chop before my first class. I’ll need an extra ten minutes, so piss outside, Niagara,” Jimin laughed, closing the door behind himself. Turning to face the shower, he took a deep breath and leaned down to turn it on. Soon after, his clothing was tossed into a nearby hamper and he stepped under the comfortable warmth of the water. He let some fall onto his face in the hopes of it waking him up fully, though that didn’t quite work. “Well, here goes nothin’,” he mentally trailed off and bit his lip, one hand gliding from his face and down his torso to wrap around his length.

“Off to whore yourself out for cash again today?” the younger male asked, watching Jimin enter the living room, steam wafting around him.

He stopped in his tracks, holding onto the towel around his waist indignantly. “I am not a whore, Jungkook. I’m a model. An artist. A-”

“Sex worker?” Jungkook asked with a raised eyebrow, propping his feet on the coffee table.

“I’m not a sex worker, though that is a completely valid line of work,” he replied, walking over to push his roommate’s feet off the table before heading back to his room to get dressed. 

The brisk April breeze caressed Jimin’s face as he sat on the park bench watching people pass by—kids on their way to school, morning joggers, and a host of folks making their morning commute. He glanced down at his watch while taking a sip of lukewarm caramel macchiato. “7:30…She should be here by now,” he thought to himself, scanning the area one more time. His eyes landed on a very familiar head of hair. Bright turquoise, tightly coiled hair, to be exact. Hair that you could see from a mile away. He couldn’t help but smile as he observed her observe everyone else, bottom lip caught between her teeth as her pencil danced across the page in her sketchbook, almost as if it had a mind of its own. 

This was a part of his morning routine now—drinking coffee in the park and admiring the curly-haired artist before work. She’d sit on a blanket under the same oak tree every day, hoping her subjects wouldn’t catch her drawing them and becoming adorably embarrassed whenever they did. So as not to deter her, her pretended not to notice her gaze lingering on him, assuming she was immortalizing him within the book’s pages.

At 7:45, Jimin decided it would be best to get to the studio early. After tossing his cup in a nearby bin, he got up and finished his walk to work. 

“Ah, you must be Jimin!” a middle-aged woman with waist-length, bone-straight black hair greeted him at the door. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he smiled, offering to shake her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jamison.”

“And you, as well. Just follow me this way to the storage room so you can change and grab a robe. The students should start filing in any minute now. I have a few early birds,” she chuckled, leading him out of the studio space. “Let me know if you need anything, and feel free to come out when you’re ready!”

He nodded with a smile as she closed the door behind herself. Then, he began to undress, calmly pulling off each item of clothing and folding it before placing everything on a stool. He grabbed one of the robes from a nearby hook and slid it on, making sure to tie it tightly. As he exited the storage room, he heard the woman’s voice again.

“Just a few reminders before I introduce you to today’s model. First, all electronic devices must be put away. No photography is allowed. You are to respect the model at all times, which means you must keep your hands and comments to yourself. We’re all adults here; I’m sure I don’t have to teach you how to behave.”

He figured that was his cue to come in, so he stepped into the bright light of the studio and shyly smiled at the students, all of whom seemed to be around his age. 

“This is Jimin, and you all will have the honor of painting him today.”

“I think I’ll have the honor of being painted by all these talented artists. From the work I’ve seen, you guys’ll make me look ten times better,” he laughed, feeling relief as the class responded positively.

“Well, then, up you go,” Miss Jamison beamed, gesturing toward the platform in the center of the room.

Jimin confidently hopped onto the platform and untied the robe, letting it fall from his shoulders before stretching himself into a graceful pose. The sound of the fabric hitting the ground was drowned out by the creaking of the studio’s door.

A light, airy voice chimed, “Sorry I’m-,” before quickly becoming silent. Knowing that only one person had been missing, the rest of the class continued working. Jimin, on the other hand, completely froze, as his eyes met those of the tardy student and trailed up to the bright turquoise, tightly coiled hair that could be seen from a mile away. 

“Late…,” she finished, hastening to her chair and easel.

“Lost track of time at the park again, I assume?” Miss Jamison inquired, walking behind her and plucking a leaf from her curls before presenting it to her.

The girl giggled and took it from the older woman. “Yeah, sorry, Miss J.”

“Well, get started before the boy cramps up. We’ll be taking our first break in about twenty minutes.”

Jimin watched her get settled, suddenly feeling even more vulnerable. He noticed her eyes skim across his body, her cheeks blushing at the sight of his lower region. He could almost hear her internal monologue as she reminded herself that she’s an adult and an artist, so nudity shouldn’t be a big deal. Seeing her so flustered caused him to smirk, which he failed to conceal.

“Alright, class! That’s it for today. Jimin, thank you again for joining us.”

“Thank you for having me!” he chirped in response, tugging the robe back on as he stretched his limbs. “Is it okay if I take a look at everyone’s work?” The class gave an affirmative response, each student eager to show him their paintings and secretly hoping that he would favor theirs. His fingers tugged at the tie around his waist as he made his way around the room, admiring all the different interpretations of his appearance. He did have a favorite, of course. The one that looked the most like him happened to be hers, though he knew that was because she’d had the advantage of observing him every morning for the last two weeks. “How much do you want for it?”

“What?” she inquired in disbelief.

“How much?” he grinned, watching her brown orbs widen.

“No, I heard you, I just—it’s not even that good!”

“Nonsense. If I set it as my Tinder profile picture, I’ll be married by next week,” he laughed.

“I couldn’t charge you anyth-”

“Would $200 cover it? I’d offer more, but I’m low on cash. Actually, wait here.” He began to walk backwards towards the storage room and pointed at her. “Don’t move,” he challenged playfully, one eyebrow raised with a finger pointed in her direction.

The girl looked over at Miss Jamison who smiled with a shrug. “It is a really good painting.”

When he returned, fully clothed, everyone else had left. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he said, holding out the money.

“Hazel, and I can’t take your money.”

“Sure, you can. You just open up your hand and-”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she rolled her eyes, amusement clear in her tone and expression. “$200 is a lot.”

“This painting is worth $400, easy, and if I could, I’d give you every last cent.”

She swiped a curl from in front of her face before answering. “Well, thank you, but-”

“I know, I know. You obviously can’t be swayed…,” he raised his hands in defense. “So how about I give you $100 and take you out to lunch tomorrow?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What, I take it I’m not your type? Or is it that I haven’t left much to the imagination?” he teased.

She laughed and shook her head, figuring he’d be persistent. “Why?”

“So I can see the other drawings of me in your sketchbook,” he replied, head tilted.

“How’d you--…You’ve been watching me in the park,” she spoke her realization, crossing her arms in amusement. 

“Which means we’re even. Meet me under your oak tree tomorrow at noon,” he smiled, carefully picking up the painting and leaving the money in its place before leaving.

“So, you spent $100 of our rent money…on a painting?” Jungkook asked, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s not just any painting, and I’ll make the money back by the end of the week,” Jimin replied, setting the painting down against the kitchen counter. 

Jungkook stood up from the couch and walked over to take a look at it, immediately releasing an obnoxious laugh. “You spent $100 of our rent money for an ego boost; there’s no way your dick is that big.”

The older boy punched his roommate in the shoulder, initiating a bicker and banter session that lasted until they tired each other out.

The next day, Jimin sat alone beneath the oak tree on a navy-blue blanket at ten after twelve. Checking his phone for the third time in the last five minutes, he reminded himself that “she’s probably just running late”. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Hazel breathed, plopping herself in front of him on the blanket. 

“Judging by what I saw yesterday, late is your on-time,” he chuckled in response.

“And smug must be your friendly. Maybe I should’ve made you wait a little longer,” she playfully chided, opening her large bag. 

“Well, then you would’ve missed out on this incredible lunch I packed for us,” his grin glowed with pride as he pulled a basket from behind himself and sat it between them. 

After fishing around a bit, she found her sketchbook. “Ah, let me guess…tarte flambée? Perhaps a crudité platter,” she spoke in an exaggerated French accent.

“I don’t think I could afford to even google those things….but I hope you still like what I got,” he replied, opening the basket and laying out the food he had prepared. She looked at the spread and couldn’t help but giggle. An assortment of mini sandwiches, pasta salad, fresh fruit, and sparkling lemonade.

“It’s perfect,” she smiled softly. Before she could reach for anything, he placed his hand over the food, palm upward. 

“Not so fast. Sketchbook.”

“A deal’s a deal,” she shrugged, handing it over before picking up a sandwich and taking a bite. She watched him carefully, taking note of the time he spent lingering on each page and each of his reactions and expressions. He was about halfway through the book by the time she had eaten her third mini sandwich. “You gonna eat?” she asked almost sarcastically. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I just….You’re really talented, you know that right?”

The sincerity in his voice made the tips of her ears turn red, and she inwardly thanked her hair for covering them. “Thanks, but I just draw what I see.”

“I don’t even see this when I look in the mirror,” he muttered more so to himself, as his fingers grazed his image on a page. 

“Well, that picture is from two or three weeks ago. You’ve changed a lot since then,” she thought aloud, gently lifting his chin without thinking much of it. He watched as her eyes explored his facial features, feeling a bit lightheaded. “The sun’s been out quite a bit recently, and I’m sure you tan pretty easily. And if I’m not mistaken, you have a bit of stubble coming in,” she giggled.

He lightly brushed her hand aside. “You’re very observant.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“It’s allergy season,” he offered a fake cough in defense, causing her to laugh.

“You’ve been out almost every night for the last three weeks. You must really like this girl.”

“She’s amazing, Kook,” Jimin gushed, falling onto the couch beside his roommate. “She’s---she’s beautiful, and funny, and so incredibly talented, and smart, and sweet, and I could listen to her talk for hours--- about anything! Everything she has to say about culture, or art, or politics---it’s all just so interesting and insightful and oh my god, what is happening to me?” he spoke hurriedly, giddy laughter punctuating his rambling. 

“You’re in deep,” the younger male simpered, offering a half-finished beer. 

“Shit…I think you might be right,” he deadpanned, taking the drink and chugging it.

Jimin followed the directions on his phone as he clumsily paced through the unfamiliar neighborhood. He came to an abrupt stop as a shabby apartment complex that you’d miss if you blinked. “Second floor…Room 221,” he mumbled, entering and heading for the elevator. After wandering around for a few minutes, he found the correct room and used his foot to tap the door since his hands were full.

Hazel quickly opened it, giggling a bit as Jimin greeted her as best he could with a paper bag from a local bakery between his teeth. “You know you didn’t have to, right?” she politely inquired, grabbing the bag as well as one of the coffee cups in his hand and inviting him in.

“I know, but I wanted to. The bakery near my place makes those things you liked so much when you studied abroad. Canelés, right?” He wasn’t sure if he was reading her expression correctly, but she seemed surprised.

“You remembered.” She opened the bag and looked inside, already catching the scent of vanilla. “Thank you, Jimin. This was really sweet.”

His free hand flew to the back of his neck, nails scratching nervously. “Don’t mention it.” He finally ripped his eyes from her to take a look around the apartment for the first time. “Nice place,” he smiled, taking in all of the colorful décor. 

“Thanks. I have to show you the studio, though!” she replied, taking his hand and leading him to the biggest room. The wide windows allowed the sun to illuminate the entire room. Paintings lined the walls and occupied every corner and paint splattered shelving housed more art supplies than he could count.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know right! The overall apartment is shit, but my studio has such a great view and the natural light around golden hour? Ugh, it’s like a dream,” she sighed before taking a sip of her iced coffee. 

“I can imagine…”

“Well, if you say yes to my proposition, you won’t have to,” she hesitantly added, fingers tapping the cup.

“Proposition?”

“I’m supposed to be working on a piece for a gallery showing next month, but I wasn’t inspired to paint anything until recently.”

“What inspired you?”

“Well…you,” she blushed. “Don’t get a big head about it, but I wanted to ask you to model for me, personally. I can pay you, and it’ll be more than what you got last time. $40 per session, with a total of four sessions.”

“That’s-”

“I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can afford right now. You know, starving artist and all that. But, if I sell it, I can promise you a sizeable cut.”

“Hazel, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I want to,” she parroted with a playful shrug.

“This is usually just for when friends and family visit,” Hazel explained, pulling out an air mattress. “But for the next four sessions, it’ll be part of our setup. Now if you wouldn’t mind disrobing.”

Jimin nodded and began to undress. “Are you going to paint me like one of your French girls?”

She chuckled and answered, “Something like that,” as she unfolded a white sheet. “Do you consent to me occasionally touching you to adjust things like hair or the sheet?”

As much as he wanted to make a suggestive joke, he knew that this was important to establish and that she took it seriously as a professional. “Yes, you have my consent.”

“Thank you. Now, lay down here and position yourself comfortably. I want the finished painting to be…intimate. Not vulgar or sexual at all. But intimate, and gentle, and warm.”

He nodded again to affirm that he understood and laid down on the mattress, resting his head on his arm and stretching out his legs. 

“Okay, now face me just slightly,” she directed, draping the sheet over him organically. “And I just need a soft facial expression. Like one of innocent adoration. Of love, y’know?” She placed her knuckle under his chin to tilt his face upward a bit and their eyes met. With a soft smile, she gently brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, kinda like that,” she remarked, eyes breaking from his to momentarily examine him. 

“You know somethin’, Hazel?” Jimin asked, voice low and gaze lingering on her. She hummed in response and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “I’ve been naked in front of dozens of people…and I’ve never felt nearly as vulnerable as I do right now.”

“I’m sorry--” she began, unsure of what she might’ve done to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Don’t be,” he smiled softly, eyes lidded.

By the time she had finished her sketch and first layer of paint, the sun had filled the room with golden light, bouncing from surface to surface. He nearly purred in delight, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth embrace him, and she stopped momentarily to observe. He was stunning; every beige turned gold and every brown turned bronze. Sculpted and sunlit, pouty lips pressed into a crescent of contentment and lashes casting mile long shadows over flushed cheeks. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he interrupted her train of thought.

“Very,” she offered, setting her paintbrush down. “We’re about due for a break. Wanna take a look outside the window?”

He nodded eagerly and sat up, wrapping the sheet around his waist before sitting on the windowsill and patting the spot beside him. She granted his silent request and sat there, looking through the glass. “It’s like it goes on forever,” he said of the cityscape. “Like this town isn’t nearly as small as it seems.”

“And it seems pretty small, especially when you’ve been here your whole life.”

He bit back a grin and replied, “Yeah, well, at least you got to travel abroad, even if only for a few months. It must suck seeing and experiencing so many amazing things and then coming back home.” 

Her gaze shifted to him as he took in the view and she couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t know,” she pondered for a moment. “I think that I’ve learned how to find the magic in the mundane. With a keen enough eye and adventurous spirit, you’ll find that anywhere can be as amazing as Paris. Dans une grande âme tout est grand. Blaise Pascal.”

“English, please?” he probed with a light chuckle, turning to face her.

“In a great mind everything is great.”

Jimin turned his back toward the window, leaning his head against it with a heavy sigh. “God..I could listen to you talk forever.”

She giggled and shook her head. “I sincerely doubt that. And why would you want to?”

He tilted his head slightly in her direction. “You know, as brilliant as you are, you’re incredibly dense.”

“Or maybe I just wanted you to be a little more straightforward,” she countered, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other.

He sat forward, mimicking her expression. “Then maybe you should’ve taken the initiative to lead by example.”

“Fine. Embrasse moi,” she nearly whispered, eyes peering into his. “Need me to translate?”

Feeling heat rush to his face, he leaned in closer, eyes darting to her lips. “No…I think I got the gist of it.”

Within mere seconds, their lips collided, though it felt like hours, if not days. Time was both ever-present and nonexistent whenever Jimin was with Hazel. Frozen, yet fleeting, keeping them suspended in a haze that he had grown quite fond of. Her hand traveled from his face down his torso, setting his skin ablaze. Though he felt frantic, wanting to release all he had been feeling over the last month or so, she was calm, her movements soothing the ache he felt for her. Pulling her onto his sheet-shrouded lap, he made quick work of unbuttoning her top and latching onto her neck to leave bright purple paint splatters across her brown canvas. Just as her bare shoulders adjusted to the temperature, they were pressed into the mattress. He loomed over her, legs tangled in the white cotton, and admired her blissful demeanor—lips full and parted, breath heavy, skin flushed, eyes low. 

“Je te veux,” she murmured, tracing his lips with her thumb as she gently grasped his face.

He shut his eyes tightly, a groan caught deep in his throat. “F-fuck, that sounded so good…,” he stuttered, fingers struggling to loosen her belt.

The two basked in an afterglow that put the sun’s rays to shame. He leaned over to kiss her once more before speaking. “I read somewhere that many of the greats slept with their muses: Picasso, Dalí, like everyone during the Renaissance, and don’t even get me started on the Greeks,” Jimin explained, absentmindedly running a hand up and down her arm.

“Oh yeah, well everyone was fuckin’ everybody back then. The Greeks were old school freaky,” she laughed. “But don’t get too used to this. I still need to finish this painting, so we can’t get carried away every session. As a matter of fact, I should probably start on layer two.”

Before Hazel could reach for her clothes, Jimin grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “One request?”

“Anything…within reason,” she warned teasingly.

He let out a light laugh and bit the corner of his bottom lip. “Paint in the nude.”


End file.
